Powdery Mildew as Metaphor

When life seems like a series of unfortunate events

Murphy’s Law and The Luck of the Irish

My basic understanding of these phrases has been that if things can go wrong then they will, and that the Irish have bad luck because the leprechauns steal all the good luck. It’s been one of those weeks where they seem like truisms. So, while we remain cognizant that it could be much worse, we’ve succumbed a bit to melancholy. And so, I present to you here the rundown of our crappy week and some awkward metaphors linking life’s misfortunes to a fungal plant disease.

What a Week: The Nuisance Events

Leaks in the Roof: Blessedly we have had frequent rain. I don’t remember the last time we had to water the garden. Cursedly, we have a leak in the roof, and the cheap repair attempt(s) did not fix it. So we have broken ceiling tiles, and the rainwater collects indoors in a bucket. Bonus finding: Squirrel droppings also fell out of the hole in the ceiling (old though, the squirrels in the attic were a past incident). Unpopular Opinion: Squirrels are just fluffy-tailed rats, and those tails makes all the difference for their public relations image. Dogs are not fooled by this, which is proof of the intelligence of dogs.

Dug the Dog knows what’s Up with squirrels.

Rats in the Basement: Flooding in the basement + subsequent necessary demolition of the basement bathroom + nearby road and sewer line work = sewer rats in said basement. Just gross. One dove back into the toilet pipe and one was trapped the following day. We’re hoping there aren’t any more, but the basement floor is booby-trapped just in case. Unlikely-to-be-Unpopular Opinion: Rodents are evidence for the Fall of Man, and Reepicheep notwithstanding, I do not want to see any of his kin in Heaven if I ever get there.

Reepicheep, the chivalrous & very large mouse, from Narnia

Miscellaneous: The kitchen faucet broke, which is temporary as the miracle of modern shipping will bring new parts here in a matter of days. And we still have running water in the bathrooms. But it is an inconvenient thing for working in the kitchen. There is also a leak in the pipes underneath the kitchen sink. A large grease spill all over the oven’s insides. Laundry piling up because I won’t go down to the basement laundry room until the rats are well and truly gone.

Powdery Mildew in the Garden: Can powdery mildew ever be eradicated once it sets in? I can’t say for sure, as I’ve never tried to combat it with that goal in mind. It’s simply been a part of life in the garden here, returning every August since its initial arrival on the squash leaves a few years ago. Since it’s carried by spores, it spreads easily, takes up residence in the soil, and travels by wind and weeds. This August is no exception, but this particular year it’s just the cherry on top of the sundae of poor squash growth. (It’s a post with metaphors, ok? I didn’t promise they’d be good ones.)

Powdery mildew on the pumpkin plants.

Death Sucks

Phillip’s mother died on Friday evening, August 11th. She had a peaceful death, though it was preceded by a long period of illness and suffering. This is, of course, the truly sad event, and the preceding complaints merely misadventures. Your prayers are most welcome. She was an artist at heart, and this talent was most evident in her dried flower crafts and flower arrangements. For our wedding, I wore a flower wreath that she made:

Flowers designed and crafted by Phillip’s mom. We have aged a bit since this picture was taken. On film. That we had developed. At a photo shop.

Wisdom from The Old Farmer’s Almanac

In seeking help for how best to combat our garden’s fungal problem, I turned first to the Almanac, that paragon of folksy wisdom since 1792. Unsurprisingly, considering the source, what it had to say on powdery mildew struck me as good old-fashioned advice for thinking about life and dealing with rough times.

If severe, it reduces the quantity and quality of fruits. Not all misfortunes are equal, of course, but in aggregate it hardly matters. It’s the consistent onslaught of them that threatens to knock us off our feet. Be they First World Problems, maintenance issues that come with things we are privileged to have, consequences of our own inaction, or the grief that comes from loss, misfortune drains our energy and sometimes our hope. It reduces focus & productivity, those necessary traits for human endeavor, which so easily become idols in our contemporary world. Compounded misfortune muddies our best dreams and encourages entropy. It has a negative effect on the fruits of our labor.

Rarely fatal, but it stresses out the plants. I’m sure all but the most charmed of people have experienced times in their lives during which misfortunes follow each other in quick succession. I’m sure most of you could nod and remember your own such times. Times when each day has brought a punch in the gut or the pocketbook. It’s a human tendency in these times to turn inward, to pity ourselves a bit, to be hypervigilant for the next possible Bad Thing that could happen, to feel our nerves stretch and fray, and to lash out. We all know that stress is bad for our health in the short and long term, but it’s easy to let it get to us nonetheless.

Selectively prune diseased parts of the plant and overcrowded foliage. Solid advice. So maybe trim away overly ambitious expectations for seasonal projects. Cut ourselves some mental slack when we’re exhausted and sad. Focus our efforts on what’s most urgent. Adjust the timeline for the to-do lists.

What’s Good in the Garden Right Now:

This time of year is full of natural beauty, so even a 5 minute walk in the garden does wonders to raise the spirits.

The giant sunflowers have finally bloomed, and the bumblebees are here for it.

The Concord grapes are ripening!

Tassels on the corn

And cornsilk

Lettuce is loving the unusually cool nights this month.

Fortunate to have a garden sanctuary and clean air

I’ll leave you with this well-known metaphorical poem, to rinse away my cringey mildew metaphors:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

—Emily Dickinson

And as the Irish saying goes, May your days be many and your troubles be few.

—Erin, in Michigan